


The Parallax Express

by AuroraExecution, w3djyt



Category: Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Green Lantern Corps (Comics)
Genre: AU hopping, Alternate Universe, Canon Typical Science, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraExecution/pseuds/AuroraExecution, https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3djyt/pseuds/w3djyt
Summary: It figures, really. Just when the Green Lantern Corps really starts to recover after the Wrath of the First Lantern, something has to come up. And, just as one might expect, Sinestro seems to be the source of it.[ Hal panics. Sinestro is tired. Ollie doesn't approve. Tim can't catch a break. Ever. ]





	1. The Ninth Stop

 

# The Ninth Stop

* * *

 

“I assure you-”

“We don’t take _assurances_ from _fear lanterns_ \- gchk!”

“Perhaps you should start,” Sinestro coolly suggests, openly admiring the coil of his construct as it wraps like a creeping vine about the struggling lantern before him. “For example, while I can _assure_ you a Green Lantern’s fear does not feel particularly different than any other being’s…” He leans closer, broad grin spreading triumphantly across his expression. “I do enjoy _savoring_ it.”

Another spike of fear skitters across his consciousness and Sinestro tightens the grip of his construct, openly enjoying himself. Spurts of green energy flare out from between the small spaces in the coils and there is a desperate tamping down of that fear the longer the green lantern struggles. It’s almost amusing. Still, it’s not (entirely) what he came all the way out here for, so he loosens the hold just enough for the lantern to form words again.

“You won’t get away with this!”

“Away with what, precisely?” He queries, eyebrow arched imperiously.

The lantern narrows its eyes, making a hissing sound in the back of its throat and Sinestro idly wonders after its possibly feline ancestors and whether or not he truly cares that he doesn’t actually recognize this one. Has the GLC begun recruiting more aggressively since his last intelligence update? Something to look into later, to be certain.

“Whatever it is you think you’ll manage out here. Did you think I was _alone_?” the lantern snarls at him, drawing triumphant at the end. “I called for backup the moment I saw you- mmmf!”

“I’m glad to see _some_ of you retain the ability to practice basic protocol,” Sinestro dryly notes, and turns away, hands clasped behind his back to wait for ‘backup’ to show up already. It was just like Jordan to be late even when he didn’t know he was late.

John had warned him it was a bad idea.  Kyle had agreed.  Heck, even _Guy_ had pitched in his two cents about how he'd rather go himself to deal with the "yellow peril".  (This, ironically enough, was what broke the tension as Kyle had stared horrified, Hal had nearly fallen over laughing _in space_ , and John had pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  This left Simon to explain to Guy the history lesson the man had evidently missed and why he _couldn't say those words in public_.)

Still, as Hal had pointed out, Sinestro is _his_ nemesis to handle.  (Heh.  "Handle".  Which, Hal reminds himself, isn't happening today because he's _mad_ at Sinestro.  It's been _months_ since they've spoken.  About, uh, Corps things.  Or something.)  He'd had to convince Kyle he'd be _fine_ , and it was highly unlikely he'd come back possessed by Parallax _again_.  Guy was mollified by Hal's argument that Hal knew Sinestro's weaknesses a lot better, and John had simply shaken his head, already knowing Hal wasn't going to listen.  Simon had only given him a knowing look. 

But okay, seriously, dealing with Sinestro has always been Hal's thing.  Largely because Sinestro keeps targeting Hal, but _still_.  And when Thaal Sinestro picks up a random Green Lantern and toys with them slowly instead of making an immediate decision?  Hal _knows_ that was meant for him.  But excuse _you_ , Sinestro, Hal is not a dog.  Hal is the goddamn leader of a Corps, Sinestro's _equal_ , and Sinestro can contact him directly instead of calling for him roundabout like this.  (Except, Hal thinks, he's probably about to reinforce Sinestro's bad behavior.  Damn it.) 

Either way, he has a Corps member to save.  Hal slows down to a stop right behind and slightly above Sinestro. 

"Put the newbie down, Sinestro."

“Define ‘down’,” Sinestro archily returns, gesturing broadly to the empty space around them as he turns to face the man he was actually waiting for. “Your recruits are surprisingly protective of you,” he notes, allowing the lantern to continue their struggles behind him – mostly for the show and the idle curiosity of how Hal would react to it.

"Do you _really_ want to start this?" Hal replies, raising his ring.  Goddamnit, this is not how he was hoping this would go.  Their Corps had finally reached some sort of vague truce, and he'd really rather Sinestro not fuck it up _now_.  Did Hal mention he's mad?  "Let my lantern _go_ , Sinestro."

The corners of Sinestro’s lips curl up almost in spite of himself. He gives a tug on the construct. “And if I don’t?” This isn’t what he came here for either, but Hal Jordan has always been good at distracting him.

"You _know_ what will happen, Sinestro."  Hal grins.  This is why he wasn't ever worried.  "Remember the last fifteen times you tried this bullshit?"

Sinestro drifts closer, towing an irritable new green lantern along after. “Yes, excellent training, that. Fifteen times your lanterns have been at my mercy and it’s pure _whim_ and good timing they made it out alive. Perhaps teaching them to _not_ attack those more powerful than them at first glance, and how to properly relay messages would be … prudent.”

A subtle notification from his ring momentarily diverts his attention, and then suddenly, he swings the green lantern around between them, presented in gift wrap to their leader. “Now come, we have more pressing things to attend to than dallying here making up for your instructors’ inadequacies.”

Hal sighs and reaches out to touch the yellow light, which vanishes under his fingers.  He resolutely tamps down any fluttery feelings.  This is _his own lantern_.  All Sinestro did was stop torturing Hal's lantern.  "Go back to headquarters, cadet," he tells the recruit.  "Stop by medical just in case." 

As the green light flashes, Hal turns and flies a little faster to catch up with Sinestro.  "What do you _want_ , Sinestro?"  He's so done with everything.  He does _not_ owe it to this asshole to show up and follow _just because_ Sinestro's finally decided he's horny or something.  "And bullying my lanterns is not the same as asking them to relay a message."

Sinestro looks over his shoulder, briefly, eyeing Hal for a moment and only that. He picks up speed, bursting forward at a speed that’s clearly meant for the human to follow. Showing would probably be easiest, after all.

Hal curses his innate curiosity when it comes to Sinestro being a mysterious fucker, and flies after, hustling to catch up.  "Where are we going?" he asks after a moment.

Sin smirks, smug in the knowledge that Hal would follow and content all the same that he kicks at his heels so quickly all these years later. “I would have preferred New Korugar, but this requires more… subtlety than your usual visits,” he drawls, twisting in flight to face the man more directly. “If you would bother opening a single line of communication between our rings, I could pass you the exact coordinates.”

Hal frowns, manually (so to speak) opening the link.  He hadn't _intended_ to keep it locked to external communication -- Sinestro aside, other Corps leaders sometimes contacted him for various reasons--so he finds it slightly concerning that it's suddenly shut by default.  He makes a mental note to investigate later.  (Hal can only handle one great mystery right now, and Sinestro's taking precedence.  Like always.  What a giant baby.)

A soft “Hr,” of acknowledgement leaves along with the coordinates. Jordan’s frown says volumes more than Hal likely realizes, and Sin is too adept in reading him to miss the details besides. He lets it be, for now: they have more pressing issues and there’s likely no more for Hal to tell him besides. “It’s a small planetoid two sectors over. A colonization. Almost entirely city and very busy.” An easy place to disappear.

"What exactly are we _doing_ , Sin?"  Hal falls too easily back into the nickname.  He mentally kicks himself.  "Is someone taking over the universe again?  Krona?  What, because you _do_ realize I have a Corps to run, and I'm not just sitting around waiting for you to call, right?"

“Yet you came,” Sinestro points out, gradually drawing them both into a faster pace to their destination.

"I had a lantern to save," Hal retorts, but keeps following.

“And now?”

"I wanted to make sure you're not planning to do anything bad?"

“At least try to sound like you’re making a statement, Jordan,” Sinestro dryly returns, but his smirk is still firmly in place and darts forward the remaining distance at a much higher speed, knowing Hal will follow. He dims his light as they zero in on the planetoid in question, uncaring if Hal follows suit. He specifically chose a relatively peaceful sector and is more concerned for his own privacy than whether anyone notices a Green Lantern flying in.

“Wait here,” he curtly directs as they land on a large veranda, high up within the artificial atmosphere. The air is pleasant, somehow, in spite of towering structures all around and easily hundreds of spacecraft and local shuttles bustling about in the skies above. Still, this particular building seems more removed than many of the others, buttressed by a huge stone outcropping to one side and streaky clouds on the other. The nearby sun glows orange over the horizon line, glinting off the glass like door that slides open as he approaches.

“Jor-”

“Papa!”

No sooner are Hal’s feet on the ground than a bundle of energy in the form of a girl barrels into him, arms latched to his waist in seconds.

It's a child, so Hal instinctively hugs back.  Wait, what?  This child definitely just said "Papa". 

"... Does that word mean something else in another language or something?"

“… Your ring would still translate it,” Sinestro dryly points out as the girl pulls back and frowns up at the man she’s clinging too, black and gold gaze startling on an otherwise human face.

“It… You… come _on_ that’s not funny, Papa!”

“I take it you have not met?” Sin prompts, still not moving from the doorway, gaze calculating as he watches the interaction.

Hal freezes for a moment.  He hates upsetting children. 

"Listen, sweetheart," he begins again, instincts kicking in.  "I'm not trying to hurt you, but I honestly don't know what's going on right now.  Let's talk about what _you_ think is happening and see if we can figure it out, okay?"  He pets her hair, still keeping her in a loose hug.

“I warned you,” Sinestro huffs, immediately turning in to the suite. It’s bad enough having to _see_ and _interact_ with her. It’s worse when Hal’s damnable instincts gentle him to her. It’s also exactly why he made sure to ensure their privacy. There was no way he was doing this around his corps.

The girl sticks her tongue out after him and tucks closer to Hal. “You’ll fix it,” she shortly announces. “You always do.”

Hal blinks.  This is--true.  She sounds like Hal, talking to Sinestro once upon a time.  "I will," he promises.  "Now why don't we sit down and you can tell me--"  Hal pauses, cutting a glance over to Sinestro.  It's clear who this girl is, has to be, based on her looks.  Hal _knows_ she doesn't exist in his own reality, but he's been in and out of so many alternate dimensions and universes it's hard to be _that_ surprised.  "--tell _us_ what's going on and how you found Thaal."

She scrunches her nose up, clearly trying not to pout, and mostly failing. “… Really? You don’t… You _really_ don’t…? I was so sure I’d figured it out, though!” Another burst of energy pushes her grumpily away from clinging to Hal, instead stomping out her frustration on the veranda. “I was… You’re both _here_. You even – Father didn’t even _attack_ and you-” she turns pleadingly towards Hal. “You’re _here_. That’s already better than like… half?”

“Come inside,” Sinestro answers, catching Hal’s gaze and then turning away to find himself somewhere to sit.

Hal figures that's more than a concession from Sinestro.  "We are here, and we'll figure out how to help you."  He goes out to gently guide the girl inside.  "I'm sorry--"  Hal pauses for a second.  "Can you tell us your name, sweetheart?"

It’s definitely a pout now. She crosses her arms, closing off slightly even as she lets him direct her. “… Yiskah.”

“After your mother, apparently,” Sinestro blandly comments, gaze nevertheless strictly on their visitor.

Hal doesn't even know what Sinestro _means_ , but the Korugarian is clearly flustered.  He doesn't get this snarky with very many people without good reason.  "All right, Yiskah, can you tell me what you know about--?"  Hal gestures vaguely between the three of them with one hand as he sits his not-really-daughter on the soft chair.

Yiskah heaves a deep sigh only a teenager could fully endorse, and plops into the chair with little fuss. “Honestly, it’s probably your fault.”

Sinestro snorts lightly.

Yiskah runs an anxious hand back through her hair, shoving it back behind a pointed ear. “Or one of the Flashes. It’s _usually_ one of the Flashes. I just. Usually it’s fixed by now? I haven’t found _anyone_ and I’ve been _looking_. And I just keep popping around.”

“I found her on New Korugar,” Sinestro flatly interrupts. “In the structures by the core.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “It was _your_ idea. Not my fault your Parallax is so... obsessive.”

Hal can't stifle the chuckle that comes out at that.  If it wasn't obvious before, the way she talks makes it so very clear she's related to Sinestro.  "Why don't we start at the beginning, Yiskah," Hal tries, taking her hands gently.  "So in your reality, your parents are -- us?"

The question draws Yiskah’s attention back to Hal and for a moment she almost looks upset, but it soon clears. She squeezes his hands lightly. “… Father took care of me when I was young. I moved to Earth when I was… well I think the human equivalent was around eight.” Her hold tightens a bit and she glances aside quickly. When she turns back, her eyes are a familiar, soft brown. She gives a little smile. “Papa wanted me to… have some human friends too. Father taught me how to … tweak things.”

“She has our DNA,” Sinestro answers more directly, straightening where he sits. “And some natural affinity to manipulate the yellow element.”

Yiskah shrugs lightly, looking mildly uncomfortable and trying to hide it. Her eyes revert quickly thereafter.

Hal exchanges a glance with Sinestro, catching a glimmer of something downright sympathetic there.  "Yiskah," he turns back to the girl.  "Are your -- I mean, are we together in your universe?"

She gives a short bark of a laugh. “That’s always so _important_ to you, Papa.” She scrubs a hand over her eyes, shaking her head lightly to focus, eventually looking back to Hal directly though her smile is a little weak. “And you know, when there’s both of you, you’re always in love. Where I come from, you even show it.” Her gaze slides pointedly to Sinestro and stays there. “Both of you.”

Hal has to hold back the little laugh that catches in his throat at the idea that their sort-of-daughter is glaring at Thaal Sinestro for not being lovey-dovey enough to Hal.  If Hal's honest, though, despite his completely legitimate reasoning of wanting to know how they should act around her, there _was_ a part of him that was curious if the two of them had a world where they ended up... happy together, white picket fence, two and a half children and all. 

"We'll... work on that."  He's still _mad_ at Sinestro, but maybe not as mad as he was before, especially with this girl telling them about all the other versions of themselves.  "All right, so... somehow we had you?"

Yiskah makes a face. “Ugh, do we really have to do this? I’m immune to a lot of this by now, but even for me-”

“ _Indulge_ us,” Sinestro interrupts, pointedly, but with a hint of a smirk at the edges.

“… Father always described it as Parallax playing surrogate,” she flatly returns in kind, hopelessly smug when he doesn’t immediately respond.

If Hal had been drinking (which, don't get him wrong, he'd like to be, ye gods what kind of sadistic freak brought a man into this without offering alcohol) he would be spitting his drink across the room right now.  " _Intentionally_?" he blurts.

“Happy Accident,” Yiskah offers with air quotes. “See also: demon spawn, space egg, and ‘not another one’.”

“… Which most likely explains the affinity to the yellow element,” Sinestro muses, voice a careful monotone.

“Well yeah. That’s why last time this happened (and that _was_ totally Bart’s fault) I got back because universal entities are, well, universal. Usually focusing on Parallax helps. This version you have _really_ likes me though. I… don’t think it’s going to let me leave….”

"Welcome to the club," Hal mutters, before something strikes him.  "Wait... another one?  Do you have siblings?"

Yiskah blinks, but then turns to Hal with a grin. “Oh yes, a whole litter, practically! They’re a little too young to get pulled into this stuff, though, I guess.”

God, _really_?  Hal scratches the back of his head, blushing.  Wait... "How many times have your parents 'accidentally' had children via Parallax?"

Yiskah rolls her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, six?” She leans back in her chair, idly counting out each name with her fingers. “Let’s see, Sora doesn’t count, I guess, so that leaves Marty, Abin, John, Arin-”

“Jordan, she’s lying,” Sinestro cuts in on an exasperated sigh. “Pay attention.”

She sticks her tongue out at him again. “Buzz kill.”

There's a certain fatherliness to the interaction between Yiskah and Sin that Hal can't even get upset.  It's cute.  Hal could get used to this, and that thought's a little terrifying. 

"All right, smart aleck," Hal turns back to Yiskah, "so what happened to get you stranded in our dimension?"

Yiskah sighs, the sound rather reminiscent of the one that just left Sinestro from across the room, and shrugs haplessly. “I thought I figured it out, but then I ended up here, sooooo I’m guessing I was wrong.”

“Or that something else interfered with your calculations,” Sinestro points out on a frown.

She just gives another shrug. “Yeah maybe. I mean, I’ve been through this like eight times by now… Papa probably lost his chill like four realities ago. General consensus by everyone that wanted to help seems to be something to do with Papallax,” she thoughtfully adds, with a glance towards Hal.

" _Papallax_?"  Hal can't seriously believe his daughter-from-another-dimension just said that.  Then again, this _is_ his daughter from another dimension.

Yiskah grins unrepentantly. “Well it’s a lot less confusing than ‘parallax’. Father’s easy. He’s always himself. You and Parallax have a _thing_ though. It’s weird. Father thinks that’s what caused me. Papallax doesn’t seem really concerned?” Another shrug.

Sinestro valiantly refrains from a sudden, very human urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Jordan is here to _deal with this_ not make him want to _smack_ both of them. He could have done that on his own. “The _point_ of your statement, Yiskah? Jordan, try to refrain from derailing her again.”

“Oh, well, there was a weird time-space collapse, I think? Papallax was there, but I don’t really remember what happened,” she immediately continues after Sinestro’s prompt, rubbing a few fingers at her temple in an absent gesture.

“First Papa was pretty freaked out by it, I think. Third Father thought I was… caught up in Papallax’s inter-space wake or something. That’s why I started tugging Parallaxes. Sort of like taking a bus instead of walking.”

Hal frowns.  "That doesn't seem to be getting you home, though.  Percent chance of Parallax sending you to the right dimension is one in... a lot."  He sits back for a moment, eyes moving back and forth as he thinks through ideas.  "What if we take you to talk to _our_ Justice League?"  He pauses.  "... you have a Justice League, I assume?"

“Huh, it’s actually called the same thing, here?” Yiskah muses on a wide eyed blink that quickly melts into another broad smile. “Anyway, I’m not using Parallax to pick _destinations_ , I’m basically just guessing. I can’t really move on my own, though, because I can’t really get out of Papallax’s pull. So I’m moving between instances of Parallax when they mesh with Papallax’s, um, path? Oh! how many Flashes do you have? They’re usually super helpful when I get out of sync… or, you know, the cause.”

Hal lets out a warm laugh.  "We have Barry, Wally, Bart, Jay...and sort of Max and Jesse.  Um.  A lot.  Look, Flashes are weird.  Adorable, but _weird_."  (Barry would say the same about Lanterns but that's neither here nor there.)  Hal refocuses.  "I'm thinking of taking you to meet some of our Justice League.  They've done a _lot_ of dimension hopping and might be able to help."  Barry's got the time-space thing, Clark has seen himself in at _least_ fifteen alternate forms, and Bruce is generally smart.  Plus, Hal kind of finds Yiskah adorable as hell and wants to show her to people who will adore her like she deserves.

“Sounds like you almost have a plan,” Sinestro drawls, pushing himself up to a standing position.

“Don’t-!” Sinestro instinctively freezes as Yiskah lurches up from her chair, but smooths over the sudden stop with a pointedly arched eyebrow. “You were going to leave-”

“Of course. You don’t need-”

“You said you would help!”

“… And I have.” Sin casts a brief glance past the angry young teenager struggling for words to the human just behind.

“Finding Papa doesn’t _count_.” She’s still tense, shoulders set and defiant, but blinking back furious tears. “You _swore_ you would _help me_.”

It’s the most… intriguing thing, her fear. Something so integral to her even he nearly misses it, but seemingly bottomless once found. A void of power trickling through his ring: too much to process. He sets those thoughts aside for the moment, allowing a frown to tug his lips but staying where he is and more calmly begins again.

“Yiskah, whatever… arrangement that may exist where you come from does _not_ exist here. I cannot just-”

“<Father.>”

The Korugarian word draws him up short.

“<I am not leaving without you. You _promised_. >”

Sensing the tension, and seeing the girl nearly in tears, Hal makes some decisions to go against his original plans for today.  He had promised himself he would be _mad_ at Sinestro, but c'mon, seriously, this girl clearly needs both her dads (or... as close as they're going to get for now) and Sinestro is one of them so dammit, Hal is going to take one for the team. 

"Thaal."  Hal has already floated over to Sinestro's side and places a gentle hand on his arm.  He's wearing his best pleading pouty face, but to his credit, it's for a good cause here.  "She needs us.  _Both_ of us.  I'm sure the League will understand.  I'll make them."

It takes little more than one last glance in Yiskah’s direction for the decision to be made. Sinestro offers Hal a pointed glare for just a moment longer out of sheer stubborn pride before turning back to not-their-daughter. “<I will accompany you. … Get yourself cleaned up.>”

Yiskah takes half a step forward, stops, blinking fiercely again, and then brings a hand up to rub at her eyes. She gives a jerky nod, clearly trying to collect herself and finally turning away with a soft “<Ok>.” A split second later, she spins back around and darts over, latching tightly to him. “<Thank you>,” she adds, pulling away again before Sinestro even finishes raising a hand. Another broad smile emerges, and she leans over to peck Hal on his cheek too.

“I won’t be long!” She calls out as she darts deeper into the suite again, rubbing at still damp eyes.

“… You had best send word _now_ ,” Sinestro crisply suggests, turning sharply on his heel to move in the exact opposite direction of everything he can’t have.

Hal steps away to make a brief ring call to John.  (It has to be John.  Guy and Kyle would flip out and he's not making poor Simon deal with this.)  John takes it about as well as John takes most things pertaining to Sinestro, and specifically Hal's relationship with him, which is to say fairly well, considering. 

Once he finishes, Hal sidles back toward Sinestro.  Yiskah is apparently taking a while in the bathroom, which Hal is grateful for, because he takes the time to slip into Sinestro's personal space.  "Thaal," he murmurs.  "You okay?"

“Of course.” Sinestro deliberately finishes manipulating the small constructs projected out in front of him like computer screens before dismissing the lot of them. “Fortunately, I am adept at handling my corps at a distance…” Yiskah, of course, fails to interrupt _now_ when he would prefer the distraction, leaving only marked silence between him and Jordan and his own unwillingness to break it.

"I know you like her," Hal says, blunt as he always is with Sin.  He tucks himself a little closer.  "And I know the League... aren't your favorite people."  Sinestro still won't look up at him, so he only hesitates for a moment before continuing.  "Thank you for doing this for her, Thaal."  Then he stands all the way up on his toes and leans up to plant a soft kiss on Sinestro's cheek.

It doesn’t break him, but it does bend him. Just a little. Sinestro turns slightly, unable to resist catching Hal by his waist and tugging him close enough to properly seal their lips together. It’s not much more than Hal himself had offered, but his hold is firm and – he breaks away, attention shifted askance immediately to where Yiskah stands in the doorway, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“Oh, don’t stop on _my_ behalf~”

Sinestro snorts and pulls away.


	2. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hal finds a solution to something, he can be a bit overzealous in its execution; which is exactly how Sinestro ends up disgruntledly babysitting in the Watchtower amidst superheroes, sidekicks, and a misplaced alien hybrid.
> 
> On the plus side, he gets laid. But then, that's always been part of Jordan's go-to methods for solving problems.

 

# It's Complicated

* * *

 

“… and you _believe_ her?”

“I realize Jordan has yet to develop the habit of actually utilizing his ring _usefully_ , but _I_ did scan her before I bothered contacting him,” Sinestro dryly points out, arms crossed and standing just behind Hal.

It’s hard to tell if Batman even bothers looking at him with the white lenses obscuring his eyes so well behind the mask, but his attention does seem to refocus on to Hal shortly after. “And you believe _him_?”

Just beyond them, Yiskah is ruffling the hair of an angry ball of robin that appears to be hissing at her in response. She’s probably fine, but Sinestro keeps most of his attention there regardless, unconcerned with the small cadre of superheroes before him save for observing the young Korugarian. For all his irritation with the heroes, the grumpy one certainly has enough to be suspicious of. He tries to remind himself that that is the only reason he watches her so closely.

"I... yes?"  Hal isn't sure if he should be insulted.  It's not like he _always_ believes Sinestro but in this case it seems pretty reasonable.  "I mean, come on, she's just a kid!"  Barry at least looks sympathetic.  Good man.

The white lenses narrow. “A child with unknown capabilities, who can _apparently_ move between parallel universes and now has access to the watchtower,” Batman flatly points out.

“… Because we can _help her_ ,” Barry hesitantly points out, a hand up as he steps closer to them both.

"We've had Lex Luthor come to the Watchtower from an alternate dimension before and we helped _him_ ," Clark says, managing not to roll his eyes at Bruce.

“ _You_ decided to help,” Bruce flatly returns.

"I'm certain J'onn's analysis would put your mind at ease," Diana suggests.

Sinestro briefly shifts his attention to Hal for some sort of confirmation about that particular story, and, seeing only a brief sigh in confirmation, he shortly returns his attention to Yiskah. The small assassin appears to be glaring up at where she’s now floating cross legged over him, talking animatedly. He wonders, briefly, if Soranik would have acted similarly with a younger sibling.

Batman shifts his gaze to the Flash instead.

He blurs away and back in the blink of an eye. “She’s not vibrating at the right frequency for this Earth,” he offers hopefully.

“J’onn,” Batman agrees with a nod for Barry’s effort.

" _She has very strong ties to the Parallax entity_ ," J'onn responds in their minds. " _Otherwise I see no obfuscation. Her mental processes are remarkably similar to those of Hal_."

Hal beams a little before he remembers this isn't actually going to help Spooky feel better about the whole situation. "Look, everyone likes her, Sin hasn't done anything that bad to Earth or my Corps in months, are we done with the interrogation yet?"

“… We’ll see what we can do,” Batman eventually relents, turning his gaze briefly to Yiskah with a mild frown, mostly thoughtful.

In the pointed silence that follows, Sinestro barely refrains from something close to a roll of his eyes and floats calmly over to Yiskah and her ‘friend’ apparent.

Batman’s frown flattens slightly and he turns his attention back to Hal. “You’re already too attached,” he notes.

"I am not!" Hal replies on instinct.  "All right, maybe a little, but look at her.  She's lost on her own and Sin and I are the closest thing she's got to her real parents."

“And that doesn’t worry you at _all_?” Something other than brooding disapproval slips into Bruce’s words finally, and it seems to creep closest to concern, more than anything.

“ _Relax_ ,” Barry cuts in again, smiling broadly at his dour friend. “They’re _here_ , right? We’ll keep it under control.”

Bruce just shakes his head slightly, turning his cowl briefly towards Sinestro and Yiskah when he senses more than notices Damien return to his side. His attention swings back to Hal. “Sinestro only does what benefits _him_ ; you know that better than any of us. What do you think he’s _really_ here for, Lantern?”

Hal blinks, then blushes as he remembers why exactly Sinestro chose to tag along. "He's here because she asked, Bruce," Hal finally answers, trying his damnedest not to avert his eyes.

It’s impossible to tell, of course, but the slight twist to Batman’s lips almost implies a raise of his eyebrows. From somewhere in his cape a derisive “Tt,” issues forth and Bruce apparently decides that’s enough commentary, because he turns away shortly after, a small, brightly colored assassin somehow appearing at his heels.

Barry knocks Hal’s shoulder with an amused expression and tilts his head in Yiskah and Sinestro’s direction. “Hey, you need a few? I’m pretty sure Bart’s free…”

"Who the hell is Bruce to judge about getting attached?" Hal mutters irritably. "He's the one with an orphan addiction."  He shakes himself and turns back to Barry, who is still smiling benevolently. "Ah, yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Bear."

Barry’s smile transforms to a grin, raising his hand in a two finger salute. “No sweat. Back _in a flash_ ,” he announces, vanishing with a wink.

Across the room, Sinestro subtly tows Yiskah closer to the broad windows showcasing the planet below them, a smile tugging at his lips as he glances up at the girl, still floating at head level like they’ve been conversing that way for years. Perhaps for her, they have.

Hal finds himself inexorably drawn to the pair of them.  Before he notices, he's already tucked against Sinestro's side, listening to Yiskah talk about her female version of Damian, who is apparently Yiskah's best friend.

"... so I guess the ages are kind of off," Yiskah finishes on a slight sigh, leaning on to her left hand and glancing out the window. “I’ve gotten aged up before, but aged down is kind of annoying.”

Sinestro’s attention wanders briefly after the girl’s, then back, never shifting away for more than a moment even as he adjusts to Hal invading his space with instinctive ease. “Does it seem different to you?”

“Not all that much,” Yiskah says with a flippant shrug. “The angle’s always different, so it’s not that weird. Continents look pretty similar. One time the whole thing was completely inverted – not just upside down or something you could fix either. It was _really_ trippy.”

“… Exactly how many points of comparison do you have?” Sinestro finds himself questioning, eyes narrowed slightly with a frown tugging at his lips.

“I dunno, something like twenty?” she writes off, drifting up and around to change her viewpoint slightly. “I mean, with parents like mine, you know? I guess you get used to it after a while.”

Hal frowns.  "Your parents must be worried about you a lot," he observes.  This seems like an awfully high number for a girl Yiskah's age, even if he's fairly certain Bruce's children would point out they get up to similar things.  Still, this is another Hal's child, and Hal doesn't like the thought of her getting lost in other dimensions so often.

“Probably,” Yiskah agrees, laying her hand on the window and floating up closer to it, her gaze narrowing as she stares below. “Papa always looks like he’s about to cry by the time I get back.” She tilts her head slightly, and then pushes away, turning back towards the both of them. “Is that an island beside Australia? How weird. Has it always been there?”

Hal has to concede that he'd be really upset if _his_ daughter vanished across dimensions like that.  He notices his hand has clenched around Sinestro's arm and slowly unfurls it.  "New Zealand?  I mean, it's been around as long as the continents have been vaguely this shape, way before humans showed up."

“Huh. Well, guess that’s a difference, then.” Yiskah shakes her head lightly and floats back down, hovering cross legged at roughly eye level to her father once more. “You know, it’s kind of funny. You’d think there’d be this huge difference when you’re missing an entire landmass, but really? Not so much from what I’ve seen.”

“You have seen twenty of infinity,” Sinestro dryly comments.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Yeah, so what? That’s 19 more than most people. And anyway, the biggest difference between my world and this one seems like ‘New Zealand’,” she announces with Jordan-esque air quotes, “and Damian’s genitals, I guess.”

“And Korugar.”

“Eh?” A wide-eyed blink.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sinestro presses his lips together instead of extrapolating and shakes his head, form tense under Hal’s hand. “It’s probably best to compare the worlds you’ll actually interact with while you’re here. The whole point of coming here was to find a way back, after all.”

Her eyes narrow again, expression a mirror of his earlier one for a moment before she shrugs it off and tilts back in the air. “Yeah, I guess so. Never know what you’ll turn up around here. Earth is nuts.”

Just as Hal slides a hand comfortingly and subtly around Sin's waist (he's supposed to be mad, damn it, but Sin is going into a Korugar funk again and Hal can't just let him suffer like that, god help him), a blur of red and yellow appears in a cyclone of sound. 

"GrandpasaidyouwereGreatUncleHal'sdaughterfromanotherdimensionthat'ssocool."  Bart is suddenly standing in the center of the group beaming up at Yiskah.  With another whoosh, Barry is standing behind Hal, grinning. 

"Found him," says Barry.

Yiskah lights up immediately. “Bart!” she exclaims, leaping down from her self-made perch and dragging him into an eager embrace. “I swear to god, you’re some kind of universal constant, it’s unreal.” She pulls back for a moment, hands on his shoulders to look him up and down. “Same genitals and everything!” A pause. “I think. Well. Boobless at any rate.”

Sinestro settles for glancing askance at Hal, expression droll.

"Whoawaityouknowme?"  Bart is already hugging back, despite having just met Yiskah within the last 30 seconds.  To be fair, Hal thinks, 30 seconds is a long time to the smallest Flash.  "WhatabouteveryoneelsedoyouhaveaTim?"

"I thought you'd like some time to, uh, talk things over," Barry says, nudging Hal.  "I'll... look after the kids for a bit." 

Hal claps Barry's shoulder gratefully and then tugs on Sinestro's arm as he starts heading for his room.  "Let Yiskah know we'll be back soon."  Hal knows she'll be fine for the moment and he's getting a little concerned about Sin – plus, what's the point of having a room in the Watchtower if he doesn't use it?

Sinestro doesn’t immediately follow Hal’s tug, looking back to where Yiskah twitters rapid fire with the younger, somewhat blurry miniature of Jordan’s best friend. She’s decidedly animated, gesturing broadly and quickly in response to a veritable stream of questions and exclamations that pour out of the young hero at a rapid rate. It’s a little dizzying. But, he notices, the tension has gone out of her shoulders and neck (a decidedly Korugarian sign of stress he’s not certain Hal ever picked up) and her body language has opened almost completely in the moments since the Flashes’ return.

He relents to Hal’s tug, then, turning away once satisfied she won’t call after or chase him down again. “Do you have another interrogation planned?” he mutters in clear irritation. “Did you not insist on my presence for her sake?”

Hal frowns a little more to himself.  Sinestro is _definitely_ tense and stressed, and it's not normal.  Luckily, Hal's room is nearby, and he sets the door to lock behind them as they enter.  Before it's even entirely shut, he's pulling Sinestro's face down and into a real kiss.  Dimly he remembers he swore he wasn't going to do this, but damn it, Sin's been so sweet so far about things and Hal's pretty much the cover girl for breaking promises so he may as well do it for a good cause this time. 

God, he forgot how _good_ this is.  He's not sure how, but he blames it on Sinestro being busy and gone for a while.  By the time he pulls away, he's already a little hazy.  "Sin," he breathes.  He was going to say something else but ends up diving back in.

For all his experience dealing with Hal Jordan and the man’s wild vacillations in emotion, the kiss catches Sinestro off guard. His reaction is instinctive – as it always seems to be with the infuriating man constantly stealing his attention away from anything and everything else. It’s that selfsame instinct that sets his hands to Jordan’s hips, shoving him back to the nearest wall when the human need for air briefly causes Hal to break the kiss and breathe his name.

Some of his irritation bleeds to wicked amusement, and he nips at Hal’s lips instead of letting him continue. He slides a leg firmly between Hal’s and drags a hand up along the pleasant line of his neck until it forces Hal’s chin up – lording the difference in their heights over the other corps leader with practiced ease. He smirks, deeply enjoying the ease with which Hal follows the movement.

“Weren’t you upset with me… Jordan?” He all but purrs, thumb brushing up under Hal’s bottom lip to slowly trace its edge. “Or is this… your idea of an interrogation?” Hal whimpers.  He's a little too distracted to think beyond the driving need that leads him to attempt to lean forward and all but beg for Sinestro to continue, but Sinestro’s hand holds firm – surprisingly strong for the amount of contact actually shared, but enough to keep Hal from pressing forward much at all. “Is there something you want?” he quietly presses, dark gaze demanding Jordan’s own: enjoying what he sees there far too much.

" _Thaal_ ," Hal moans, needy and unashamed.  He's not sure how it escalated this quickly, but that's pretty common when he's with Sinestro.  " _Please_."

A low, pleased rumble escapes and Thaal presses his thumb to Hal’s lip to turn his head, exposing more of his neck. The soft glow of yellow light slinks down from his ring, cutting against unguarded green, licking at the edges of Hal’s uniform when it finally meets resistance just before bare skin.

“Decide now, Jordan,” Sinestro purrs into the cusp of a round, human ear, tugging at the lobe with teeth alone. “How badly do you want this?” His mouth drifts lower, just under Hal’s jaw to teethe at the small patch of skin visible just above his collar.

Hal can't form _words_ with how badly he wants it.  Instead he makes a sound he's pretty sure explains well enough because he's done this dance with Sinestro before, so he knows he's being teased.  He's gyrating against Sinestro's leg, which is keeping him pinned to the wall and can't move fast enough to dismiss his uniform with a wave of his hand, because that seems to be what Sin wants. 

It doesn't help.  Now Hal is _naked_ and pushed against a wall by Sinestro, who he hasn't seen (much less touched) for a long time.  He arches against Sinestro's body and makes another desperate noise.

The hand at Hal’s waist slips around his growing erection, thumbing the damp head and mimicking the motion with the fingers holding his chin and pressed to his lips. Sinestro’s smirk deepens at the desperate whine that slips out when he wraps his hand around the hot flesh in his grasp, yellow light augmenting his grip with warmth and keeping the movement smooth. He lets the glow of his efforts seep into his gaze, and turns Hal’s face back towards his own: fully aware of how much Hal enjoys the reminder of who and what is making him surrender so eagerly to another’s will.

“Show me…” Sinestro’s fingers slip down to Hal’s neck instead, constricting. “How badly you need this… _earn_ your reward, Jordan.”

Hal's moan is louder this time around.  There's a buzzing in his head that he's always been helpless against, and he whines Sinestro's name.  "Thaal..."  He presses wandering hands to Sinestro's still-covered chest, asking via touch for more access, and then slides one hand down by practiced feel to grope between Sinestro's legs.  Hal keeps his eyes on Sin's, giving him a look filled with promise.

Sinestro’s lips twist in amusement and he leans up again, rolling his hips forward into Hal’s hand as he nips at the edge of a rounded ear. It’s a slow tease that fades with his own uniform shortly after. The next roll of his hips brings them skin to skin, and he can’t help the pleasant shiver that follows, no matter the heat of Jordan’s body. Human skin is so much _softer_ than his own, and the play of powerful muscles just beneath always sends a thrill through him. A physical representation of the incredible will bending to his own. He’ll never grow tired of the sensation.

Sinestro's cock is suddenly pressed conveniently into Hal's ring hand, and without hesitation Hal starts to move his grip up and down. The fingers of his other hand splay out over Sinestro's chest, enjoying the alien texture of the magenta skin.  "God, _yes_ ," Hal groans, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Has it been so long that you’re content to merely touch?” Sinestro teases: his voice a low, pleased rumble directly into Hal’s ear. As eager as Jordan always is, seeing the man so far gone already is a little too endearing for their usual moods. It makes him want to savor the gentle pleasure of simply having Hal caress him like he’s something to long for. Like he was missed.

A shudder runs through Hal's entire body at the feeling of Sinestro breathing words against his now-sensitive ear.   He takes a moment to touch Sinestro leisurely, just to ground himself enough to respond.  "It's been _way_ too long," Hal admits breathlessly in a rush of words.  He's forgotten how this even started but he's damned if he's going to stop now.

For the briefest moment, Thaal indulges himself: lets the thought that Hal could mean that in a non-physical way wrap around and sink in. He’s not sure what causes the want and will to linger on half-truths neither of them can truly have, but he thinks it’s probably something to do with facing the proof that it need not always remain that way. He sighs softly and drifts up, pressing his lips affectionately to Jordan’s brow and firming his hold on the man’s erection just _enough_ with a twist of yellow light to rouse him further.

“It is _always_ too long.” He means to add ‘for you’ and to lilt the words into a fond tease. Somehow, it catches in his throat – turns to a soft rumble instead.

And just like that, the glow fades.  Hal's chest aches, and he _does_ remember how this moment started.  He stops to collect himself, gently detangles them, and then lifts into the air to kiss Sinestro for real again.  It's just like the first time, and if it's obvious how much he's in love right now, he doesn't care.  "Thaal," he whispers when he finally breaks away.  He lifts a knuckle to Sinestro's cheek, but Hal's always been bad at vulnerability so he presses forward into another kiss before he can think too hard.

Sinestro leans into the kiss again, more eager this time. His ring hand raises, curling around the back of Hal’s head, long fingers slipping between strands of soft, brown hair that should register more alien to him than the reassurance and pleasure he gains from it. He’s never particularly cared much about his appreciation for all the differences between the two of them. How much greater the deviance between human and Korugarian than Ungaran ever was. Never shame, at least.

Now, damnable affection. Perhaps born in intrigue and frustration, but affection all the same. Edged in a possessive, prideful claim that makes his fingers twist and dig into a strong grip that lets him tilt Hal’s head just right. After so many years, Hal knows what to expect and is moving with his urgent tug, encouraging the drag of their tongues and the arch of his body against Thaal’s: always tempting and relenting and demanding all at once. He has to break away. It’s only a moment – to let Jordan catch his breath, but his own is deep and needful and soon forgotten again when he seals their lips together more fervently than before.

Hal remembers again in the back of his head that he's supposed to be mad, but how _can_ he be anymore?  He knows Sinestro, after all this time, and he can feel the vulnerability and emotion that Sinestro won't speak aloud.  Gently, and almost chastely, Hal wraps his legs around Sinestro's waist and pulls himself closer, as close as possible until he can feel the no-longer-alien rhythm of Sinestro's pulse against him.  Without reservation, he lets himself be claimed.  It's not as though this isn't where he's always belonged, and the kiss is _good_ , even if it's no longer blisteringly heated.  Plus, Hal hates that Sinestro feels like this is something they can never have.  Well, maybe not the magical Parallax child, but _this_ \--this thing between them is something Hal wants a great deal, and he's damned good at willing things into existence.  (He willed _himself_ into existence once, so he's sure they can work something out with the relationship.)

Touch has always been Hal’s preferred method of communication, and as such Sinestro considers himself a master in translating it. The years between them has afforded him, if nothing else, a large vocabulary of it, and yet… It’s difficult to allow himself to follow where Jordan leads. For a moment, he simply lets his hands drift after powerful legs and come to rest with long fingers brushing under the strong thighs holding Hal to him.

It’s not an unwelcome vice, and he makes use of it, at least, turning from the wall as his ring hand slides back up along soft skin until it’s high enough to counterbalance laying them both on Hal’s bed. Only then does he break their kiss to mouth the side of a pale, human neck, his hands wandering in gentle caresses up Hal’s sides. He can’t bring himself to spark the flame Jordan himself is so good at bringing to life between them, and so merely stokes the embers so they can enjoy the mellow heat.

Hal has slept in numerous beds with various people, and with Sinestro so many times he's lost track, but this, now--this brings a pleased flush to his face.  It's the opposite of their usual trysts; strange and rare, but still undeniably brilliant.  Sinestro is touching him so _softly_ , like Hal is something precious that Sinestro is uncertain he can have, is afraid he might break. 

But Hal Jordan is never one for opining too long on the things he might have.  After all, they have a family together in another dimension, which clearly means it's possible, at the least, and Hal is good at turning possibilities into reality.  "Sin," he breathes, warm and affectionate, and _hopeful_ , most of all.  His hands to move to solidly grip Sinestro's shoulders.

His response is a low, wordless sound wrapped in pleasure and trapped in the back of Sinestro’s throat. It’s just shy of guttural in the way his native tongue always seems to have some inflection there, and shortly after his lips give way to teeth once more. They sink in slowly to where Hal’s neck and shoulder meet, but instead of the rough marking of too easily bruised skin by teeth just sharp enough to cut in, he rolls the flesh between his teeth with his tongue: worrying the skin to a bruise more deliberately. Black and gold eyes lid and for a time he simply focuses there, content to mark and gentle the marking. After a moment, his left hand drifts down again, curling in over Hal’s hip to press soothing circles into his thigh.

The heat that vanished moments ago is back, this time as a slow, steady burn as Sinestro makes sure the world is aware Hal is his.  Hal gasps, then subsides into soft broken noises.  He lets it go on and on; a slow deliberate claim that makes Hal's body glow warm and satisfied, until he starts to squirm a little against Sinestro.  "Sin," he repeats.  " _Yes_."

The mindless encouragement curls Sinestro’s lips into a deeply satisfied smirk, and he laves at the tender skin another moment longer just to draw out more of the tempting sounds Hal makes. “I know,” he murmurs, low and content as he slides his hand up Hal’s flank in a soothing gesture that rests at the hip. He doesn’t move his lips from wandering the length of Hal’s neck, but his attention shifts enough for a sheen of yellow to briefly overtake the room.

It’s a little needless to scan for something Hal tends to keep in the same spot, but old habits die hard, and the process of location and retrieval is practically a background process for him now and thus pointless to adjust. So he rolls his hips up, pressing the hard length of his cock between the soft globes of Hal’s ass to calm some of the squirming as his construct places the tube of lube in his hand and vanishes again. With the distraction of his lips and teeth continuing to mark up the full length of Hal’s neck, it seems hardly any time passes before he’s dropping his hips and slipping slick fingers carefully into his lover. First one, just long enough for Hal to react and then another to scissor and twist and gently stretch at a leisurely pace. Never too long in one spot so the man in his arms can properly enjoy the building heat between them.

" _Sin_ ," Hal moans, arching his back instinctively and pressing down against Sinestro's fingers.  When he regains equilibrium, he lifts a hand up to stroke Sinestro's cheek, transferring all of his affection and adoration into the movement of his fingers.  "I'm--"  His voice is hoarse and strange to his own ears, and he has to pause to calm his emotions.  "I'm here, Thaal."

Just that one, fleeting touch is enough to drag Sinestro’s gaze sharply back to Hal’s. What he sees in the rich brown depths sends a shudder down his spine, and makes him lean in closer, brushing their lips together with another soft, “I know.” He twists his hand, pumping in and out until he can slip a third finger into the slick heat. “I know,” he breathes again, an unavoidable shakiness in the words that he nevertheless curtails by focusing his attention elsewhere for the moment.

"Thaal."  And suddenly Hal’s eyes are too hot and his throat is too tight, even as his body pulses with pleasure under Sinestro's touch.  "You have me," he manages to say before he's cut off by a whimper as Sinestro flicks a finger.  Hal slides his free hand up to tug Sinestro back down for another delighted, delirious kiss.  "...if you want."

Too much.

It’s too much and everything he wants all at once.

Sinestro leans down to capture those torturous lips with his own, sealing off the tempting words with a breath stealing kiss instead. He shifts then, slipping his fingers out to feel around for the lube again, because he can’t stop now. Not to acknowledge the offer, not to stem the tide of rebuilt lust rolling over them. He rocks his hips up again, tantalizing against the curve of Hal’s ass, and swipes his tongue more firmly over Hal’s until he’s slickened his cock enough to sink into his companion with hardly any effort. The groan of satisfaction that follows forces him to break the kiss again for suddenly needed air. It’s a hasty, heated struggle to drag in breath when he’s hardly ever needed to in the past – especially in any moments shy of several previous rounds – but it feels too good to truly fight. The exertion is just something else Hal brings out, somehow, making his chest tight and his hands fist into the sheets and his hips roll into a deep, steady pace before either of them can say otherwise.

Hal usually fights the noises, at least nominally--it's a little to do with pride and a little to do with the dynamic between them--but this time he lets them vibrate against Sinestro's mouth and then echo loudly in between shuddering pants for breath.  "Thaal," he says again, and it's a cry of pleasure as much as it's a word.  " _Thaal_ \--" 

Hal wants to say more, but the excruciatingly slow pace makes it hard.  Sinestro seems to know just the right instant to thrust into him to make him lose his words again.  Instead, Hal tightens the grip of his legs again, and raises trembling fingers to brush the wisp of hair now falling against Sinestro's forehead.  "Thaal, I--ah-- _yours_."

Words catch in the back of Sin’s throat: a collection of different languages his mind can’t quite sort but still instinctively keeps at bay. He has never been shy about his _claim_ on Hal Jordan, but hearing Hal give himself over… that’s something else. It makes him _want_. It makes him want something so terribly, in a way he can intimately recall, and at a level which he cannot turn away from. Hal has always been quicksilver in bed – the bluntness of his desire an aphrodisiac he has been able to witness the effectiveness of even when he’s not involved.

This is different.

This is Hal Jordan barely able to speak, but forcing the words out and holding himself open: pushing himself to vulnerability when he doesn’t need to. There’s too many battles between them for Sinestro to miss it. To not understand the affectionate brush of Hal’s fingers as the siren of his desire separate but still entwined with the one that rocks his hips harder – deeper – faster – into their shared heat. It’s the fire Jordan has always sparked between them, but it’s tempered in yearning and shoved forward by that same will that brought titans to heel and forced life from death.   

That same, brilliant, stubborn, incomprehensible will that brought Thaal himself to ruin and rose beside him to incalculable heights.

What else can he do but embrace it?

“Say it again,” Sinestro growls, pushing up on one hand as he quickens his pace: needing to see Hal’s reaction as much as he wants to hear it. “And then again… when we’re done. Make me _believe_ you.”

A marked shiver runs through Hal, a leaf in the wind of Sinestro's irresistible desire.  The drive of Sinestro's cock makes it hard to think, hard to form words between the moans at each thrust. 

The thing is, Hal hasn't bothered lying to Sinestro in _years_.  It was still early in their relationship when he realized Sinestro knew when he lied, and even when Sinestro had been on the other side of wars, there had never been any _reason_ to lie.  Their relationship has always been honest, if nothing else.  Still, Hal understands why Sinestro wants to hear it again and why he can't quite believe it.  With their roles reversed, Hal would be in the same position. 

So he lets his drifting hand thumb gently across Sinestro's bottom lip, and then smooths his palm against Sin's chest, the skin texture now familiar after so many years.  "Yours," he reiterates, and it's barely forced out amidst the breaths and cries.  "A-always have been."

It's enough. It shouldn’t be and he’ll make Hal say it again later, but right then, when he’s already overcome… Sinestro believes him. He slides down to his elbows, and bows his head to catch Jordan’s lips with his own once more in a gesture that never meant anything to him in lifetimes past but means everything to him now. He rocks forward, hard and deep and with a tilt to his hips in just the way that makes Hal shiver around him and demand his pleasure. Their flame engulfs him again and he feels nothing more than potent desire and a single, prideful claim to the man he shares it with.

Hal is flying.  He's lying on his bed in the Justice League tower, but he feels like he's flying. 

Sinestro is kissing him like Hal is the only thing that matters in the universe, and claiming him so that Hal will never be able to belong anywhere else again.  And Hal feels like gravity doesn't matter to him, like he's streaking through space at the speed of light, like he does when he's _flying_ , and he's never quite felt like this before.  His cries of pleasure are muffled against Sinestro's mouth even as he shifts his hips to better move with Sinestro. 

It occurs to Hal that they're flying together, and that was always – _always_ – what he had wanted most, from the very beginning.

Sinestro breaks the kiss when he feels the shift in Hal’s muscles, catching his breath in low pants as he presses his lips down the length of an already bruised neck. Hal’s expression is something euphoric, causing something deep within him to bloom in pride from knowing he caused it. He leans up again, snaking a hand between them as he peppers his lover with affectionate kisses, and lightly wraps his hand around the hard length leaking precum on to Hal’s stomach.

“I have you,” Thaal murmurs, voice thick with emotion and pleasure alike. “You’re mine… and I have you.”

Hal's head falls back, neck arching.  "Yours," he agrees, and Hal doesn't know what to make of the fact that he's still incredibly aroused and wanting, in clear conjunction with the ache of desire in his chest.  "Thaal--" 

He's wanted to hear that from Sinestro for a very long time, and he didn't even know it.  It's one thing to suspect there's something a little deeper than fabulous sex, from all the times they've ended up side-by-side again despite repeated separations by choice or by force.  Hal's heard Sinestro lay claim to him many times, and he's even gotten the rest of it on occasion when they do something particularly adventurous in bed.  But it's a very different thing here and now, hearing it together, and knowing it's Sinestro's way of responding.  Even with the heat suffusing his body and the warmth behind his eyes, Hal can interpret the statement for what it is. 

"Yes," he responds helplessly, pressing into Sinestro's hand.

A low moan slips past Sinestro’s lips, pressed urgently to Hal’s neck. He’s lost in the unrelenting heat of his companion and the shuddering tension that drags him ever closer to the edge of his own pleasure, but the only thoughts in his mind are of the man in his arms. Of Hal’s pleasure and the way his body signs in Thaal’s hands. Of the image Hal makes flushed and panting beneath him, littered with bite marks already giving way to a lurid bruise that will definitely be visible above Jordan’s usual uniform. And of the sweet sounds of surrender Hal gives him as he drives himself deeper into the blissful heat quickly overwhelming all other senses.

“Jordan…” he breathes, cutting off with a pleased rumble when his own pleasure spikes, then corrects himself. “ _Hal_ -”

Hal doesn't even anticipate the ragged cry that's ripped from him at hearing Sinestro use his given name.  It's a rare moment, and Hal finds it far more arousing than anticipated.  He moves his hips as best he can to try to coordinate with Sinestro's onslaught of thrusts, but it's a challenge to do anything against the blinding haze of pleasure.  "Thaal, _please_ \--" he gasps, pressing one hand against the beautifully heaving muscles of Sinestro's chest.  There's no way to explain what he's doing besides begging, but Hal doesn't care anymore, hasn't truly cared for years.  "Ah--again--"

Sinestro obliges: leaning down with a pleased smirk to croon the name again into the cusp of his lover’s ear. It’s been years yet, even to Korugarian sensibilities, since he should have relented to personal names, but watching Hal light up from that one syllable only convinces him to continue hoarding it. To save it for moments like this when he can growl it into the curve of a human ear and _feel_ the man tremble in its wake. He shifts his grip on Hal’s erection to let him lean into the low litany of worshipful Korugarian punctuated with tender repeats of a foreign name that clings to the back of his throat and rolls off his tongue in a way no human would ever pronounce it. A soft coercion on its own, but so much more when wrapped in the pleased thrum of words he’s never said. Words that leave him shivering and desperate for the heat and desire of the man in his arms.

Hal normally recognizes a significant amount of Korugarian, but he's currently too far gone to think that hard.  Still, he catches words here and there that make it clear Thaal Sinestro is whispering sweetness and praises in his ear in his native language.  He hears his own name, as requested, as well, and the sound of it repeated tenderly like a prayer makes Hal want everything Sinestro has to give.  "Thaal," he replies helplessly, " _Thaal_."  He tugs Sinestro's face into another all-encompassing kiss, this one desperate and sweet.  Hal shudders against the uncharacteristic gentleness--he's had all kinds of wild and kinky sex before, but never really like this: simple and sweet.  He thinks he might be addicted already.

For a moment, Thaal is lost. Although it was a lifetime and a lover ago that he was introduced to kissing, the press of Hal’s lips and the desperate twist of his tongue has always been a language too enthralling to ignore. It’s all the more so now, with the heat that bleeds between them and the whole of his attention already consumed by the man beneath him. Too much and too beautiful and too _good_ to him to last.

But that’s the allure of the Greatest Lantern: the temptation of permanence. And Sinestro finds himself wholly unwilling to let go of something that until now he’s always pushed aside and kept out of sight. Finds himself believing in the strength of that will just a little bit more. Just _enough_ to surrender to the kiss and the touch and the promise they convey. He removes his hand – sliding it up over Hal’s hip, to lay flat on the bed and draws his knees up to change his angle, driving hard and deep into Hal’s welcoming heat, pressing harder into the kiss and demanding everything he’s given over in return.

Hal's moan vibrates against Sinestro's lips. 

Everything is too much.  Hal feels too much--the thick length filling him and driving into him as though Sinestro will become part of Hal by imprinting himself deep within; the warm glow in his chest and his hands and his eyelids; the tight, grounding grip Sinestro has on his thigh.  "Thaal--" Hal tears himself away from the kiss to breathe out, before Sinestro is capturing his mouth again.  It's all the warning Sinestro gets before Hal whimpers into the new kiss and waves of pleasure shudder through his body. 

It's all too good, too hot, and Sinestro is all around him, and Hal tries to will himself into drawing Sinestro's pleasure but is quickly overcome.

As Hal falls, Sinestro follows, rolling his hips and carrying him through even as he himself succumbs to the final blaze of fire that jerks up his spine and draws him taut. He breaks the kiss only when he finally reaches his peak, gasping for air when heat overwhelms and he spills in long, shuddering spurts, deep within Hal’s trembling form. It shouldn’t be quite so different than it so obviously feels, but a weakness he normally only feels after hours of exertion seeps into his form, and it’s everything he can do to keep himself steady as he gentles Hal down from the high of release with gentle lips along a bruised neck and the soft stroke of a hand along his side.

Hal comes back down to earth gently, Sinestro's warm hands and soft kisses making the descent a slow floating thing.  It's different from their usual, when the first round often feels like the foreplay for the rest of the night.  He pulls Sinestro back in to kiss him again, this time languid and blissful and slow, the heat taken out of them for the time being.  Hal can feel the sloppy smile spreading over his mouth, but he can't help it.  "Thaal," he murmurs again, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Sinestro's lips.

It's a long moment before Hal’s name graces Sinestro’s lips again, mostly from the distraction of Hal himself and the effort it takes to keep himself supported. Eventually, he relents to his body’s needs and carefully lowers himself amidst lazy kisses. He settles first partially atop his lover, and then slowly shifts to the side, where they can stay entwined in afterglow. He stays quiet for a time, content to savor what has never before been allowed to breathe and grow and bloom between them.

Then he raises a hand, carding long fingers through thick brown hair, parts them just enough to catch Hal’s gaze with his own. “… And now?” he prompts of words demanded in the height of their passion – not because he suspects dishonesty, but to sate a very real fear long ago brought to heel now roused by the potent vulnerability enforced by his own reaction to Hal’s words. He knows better than to let such things fester.  

Hal has to catch his breath at the intensity of the question.  The haze fades a little before Hal leans in close, close enough to kiss but not going for it yet, and rasps, "Still yours, Sin."  He seals the promise with another kiss, longer and deeper this time, and somehow heartbreakingly blissful.

Sinestro sinks into the kiss, the leisurely brush of his fingers in Hal’s hair quickly turning to a possessive grasp that locks them firmly together until the moment he breaks them apart. His own breath still, somehow, escapes him, but he doesn’t let it keep him from replying, “And before your Corps? Before mine? Out there in front of your favored League?” The desperation and yearning that drives the words from him would normally be shuttered and banked, but it’s far too late for that now. The offer of what he could have finally too tempting to ignore.

This desperation is uncharacteristic.  Hal frowns, concerned.  "I'm pretty sure they all already know, Thaal," he says, pressing tentative fingertips to the sharp Korugarian jawline.  "I haven't … exactly… been discreet."  There's a line forming at Sinestro's forehead though, still, and Hal quickly adds, "But yes, Thaal."

“There is a world of difference,” Thaal murmurs even as the tension bleeds from his form, loosening his grasp and smoothing taut lines, “between what you will admit to and how you _act_.” He quiets for a moment, frowning lightly, but mostly in thought, drawing his hand down from thick hair to brush his thumb lightly over the rise of Hal’s cheekbone. “It has been years since either of us belonged to another,” he softly continues, black and gold gaze searching out Hal’s, “but that has never kept us from others… nor brought us together. It has not been something fought for or … protected… nor something allowed to coalesce beyond rumor and given prominence – Do _not_ –” He sucks in a sharp breath, trying and failing to calm himself. “Do not give yourself over in halves. Do not make such promises if I cannot have you in full… as you have always had me.”

There are pinpricks at Hal's eyelids, and he finds the afterglow has fallen away to a sudden, startling clarity.  His heart is pounding hard in his chest as he looks up at Sinestro and feels everything he hasn't let himself think closely about in years.  The truth is, the only person he _hasn't_ given himself to in halves is Sinestro.  It was the reason, he can admit now, that things never worked out with Carol -- she always complained, after all, that he left her on a dime if Sinestro called him. 

Some part of him knew there was a lot more to Sinestro's side of things than just--well, the sort of relationship Hal's had with most people he's slept with.  Still, it's a lot different hearing it clarified, like a promise, like a vow. 

"Thaal, I--" he starts, and has to break off to breathe.  There are wet streaks on his cheeks.  "I've always _been_...yours.  Even when--even when you didn't want me, or need me, I couldn't _stop_ , and I--I broke so many promises to other people because of you, Thaal, because I couldn't give up on--"  He stops again, shaking his head and undone by his emotions.  "I want you at my back again."

Thaal is leaning in before he can think, brushing aside the tears and pressing his lips to fluttering eyelashes and soothing in gestures unused for too many long years. He remembers trust, though it rises through the fear of betrayal and his kisses turn tremulous but do not falter. He is the master of fear, after all, and this is one he has kept close to his chest for years, letting it strengthen him. Now he feels it roar to life once more, and can only embrace it along with the rest: allowing himself the softness of love and affection along with the strength the potential of loss bolsters within him.

“I would take no other at my own,” he answers, making it a vow in wording and inflection.

Hal's grip on Sinestro's back is sudden and tight, because he's terrified.  Sinestro may have mastered fear but Hal only knows how to keep going through it, or push it aside.  He's spent a lot of time dealing with this particular fear, because he hasn't had anyone who understands him this completely, comes when Hal needs them, but also believes in him.  Despite all the negative things that have happened between them, Hal has always, somewhere inside, known this to be true. 

Still, he never thought he really _had_ Sinestro, even if Sinestro is telling him otherwise now.  And aside from Sinestro, he's had a long list of casual flings and a handful of failed relationships.  It's good that he now has a place with the League in the Watchtower so that he at least has a place to go when he forgets to pay rent while he's in space and, well, Carol's not really an option anymore.  There's always Jim and Barry, but there are many things he won't burden them with.  Hal's been adrift and, to some degree, on his own for a long time.  Now, with this thing within reach, this sort of promise, Hal isn't sure if he's allowed to believe it. 

But he wants it.

"Thaal," he chokes out, his voice hoarse with emotion.  He pulls Sinestro closer and buries his face in a red-skinned shoulder.  " _Thaal_."

One hand slips behind Hal’s head as he curls in and holds him there, the rest of Sinestro’s form bending around him protectively. Even if he couldn’t sense the terror coiling around the human in his hold, it would be obvious enough by the way Hal moves against him, seeking out all the safety and reassurances of his presence. He _can_ sense it, though: can feel how it grows and valiantly tries to put down roots despite the powerful will shoving it to the wayside. He fights the urge to revel in it, and the ache in his chest that rises when he thinks of how _strongly_ that kind of fear could fortify an already indomitable will.

“I have you,” Sinestro murmurs, gaze lidded and too forlorn to watch such power wither under the quiet reassurance. However much the image of Hal drenched in his colors appeals it cannot change _who_ he is and _what_ his is: not merely the leader of the Green Lantern Corps, but the greatest of them. And the universe needs that – he would be remiss to deny it the glory. “… I always will.”

"I'm yours," Hal promises again, voice muffled against Sinestro's skin.  He presses his mouth against the flesh very gently: a quick show of gratitude.  "Always, Thaal."  He doesn't release his grip even as he leans up for another kiss.  There are still tear tracks like stars sparkling on his face, but Hal pays them no mind.

Sinestro welcomes him gently into the shared intimacy Hal so desperately desires. Finds himself craving the same. To an extent, it’s something he’s always wanted to share with the man, but after so many years of denial and violence and avoidance, has to fight just to allow. Still, Hal isn’t the only one of them to have commanded greatness with a green ring, and Sinestro, though he has long since left it to his past, turns that formidable strength to allowing them a much-deserved tenderness.

Hal lets himself get lost in soft kisses and closeness.  Small pleased noises are swallowed by Sinestro's suddenly gentle mouth, and Hal for once gets to thoroughly savor the sensation of Sinestro's bare skin against his own.  Not that they haven't cuddled before--because Hal is really good at getting cuddles--but he doesn't remember ever having this level of non-sexual affection after sex, with Sinestro or really anyone.

Silence settles over them and for once it is neither exhausted nor enforced. Sinestro’s hands wander Hal’s skin: idly mapping rather than attempting to rouse, and he settles into the quiet until a familiar alert hums against his skin. He huffs slightly and shifts to catch Hal’s gaze, too languid still to be completely irritated and too knowledgeable to ignore the persistent thrum vying for his lover’s attention. “Jordan,” he prompts, frowning mildly and lifting his arm just enough to nudge Hal’s right pointedly, “either turn it off or answer it.”

Hal makes a groaning sound somewhere between exasperated and upset, because this is _seriously_ the worst time to have something come up.  (It's not the Justice League comm, at least.)  He's emotionally worn out, and he has the person he's honestly crazy in love with lying on him and touching him gently, and aughhhh but he's the Greatest Green Lantern and all, so Hal finally sits up and opens the line on his ring.  [Request for aid from Green Lantern 2814.5 Simon Baz.]  

"Message?" he asks the ring, even as he nuzzles his face into the warm curve of Sinestro's neck. 

Simon's recording plays brief and interspersed with the sounds of space battle.  [Uh... alien invasion, Hal.  _Really_ need some backup right now--Kyle's MIA and Guy's not answering so it's just me and John right now.]

Hal makes another despondent noise into Sinestro's skin.

Thaal quickly finds himself in a strange space somewhere between disbelieving (but really, what is so unrealistic about the timing when _Hal Jordan_ is involved?), disconcerted… and downright _amused_. He shakes his head lightly and cards his fingers through Hal’s hair again, expression wryly contemplative. “I was not… aware that you were currently at war with anyone,” he comments on a frown. Hal is warm and affectionate against him and he selfishly wants to keep him regardless, but there is no one in the universe who knows Hal Jordan better and his predilections in such cases are well established besides.

"We're not," says Hal, near pouting, "but that pretty much never stops people from attacking _Earth_."  He nuzzles Sinestro again.  "I should probably..."  For a moment, Hal gets distracted by the delicious feeling of Sinestro's alien-textured hand rubbing along his side.  He clears his throat.  "...go.  I should probably go."

Amusement, Sinestro decides, and his lips curl up at the corners as his hand slides down over Hal’s hip. “Mm… you probably should,” he agrees with a slight, but purposeful swivel of his hips before he allows them to part. “I will stay.”

Hal makes an inadvertent squeak as Sinestro very intentionally brushes against his prostate while pulling out.  "Tease," he grumbles afterward, although there's no real annoyance in it, and the pinkish flush on his cheeks severely invalidates any complaints. He presses another kiss to Sinestro's mouth, sweet but now with a tinge of heat, and probably slightly longer than he should at such a time.

“You like it,” Sinestro reminds him, grinning through the kiss and then breaking it with a swat at his still bare ass. “Now get out of here. You know they cannot handle themselves without you.”

"Hey!" says Hal, waving his ring hand to bring his uniform back.  "Simon and John are the ones that _don't_ get into trouble."  He winces a little as he realizes he forgot to clean himself off and is going to be a bit of a mess under his uniform for this excursion.  Oh well; it's definitely not the first time.  He learned years ago, that the ring doesn't consider fluids to be clothing and so doesn't remove them when changing to uniform.  "As much," he amends to his statement, because they're Earth lanterns.  There's only so much you can do when your planet is apparently the craziest place in the universe.

“Hrr.” Sinestro stands leisurely, uncaring of his nudity and seeing no reason to dress immediately no matter the ease of it. He leans forward to steal one last kiss, one hand raised to brush over the telltale bruise that sneaks up from beneath a green collar and curls up under a round ear. “I will keep an open line,” he mildly offers, allowing a hand to trail Hal’s jaw as he straightens to separate them, “though Soranik will probably be closer,” he throws in at the end.

Sinestro is _really_ difficult to tear himself away from, Hal thinks.  The man is naked and touching him gently and making hints and promises for when Hal gets back.  But speaking of Sinestro's daughter... "You keep an eye on Yiskah.  And don't take over the world together while I'm gone."  He tries to look stern but there's too much affection blooming in his chest at how domestic this all has turned out to be.  It's almost the sort of family life he always secretly wanted but never thought he'd have.  "I'll let you know if I need backup."  He squeezes the hand at his jaw tightly before he hurries out of the room to the airlock.


	3. Enter the Bats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal and Sin have a lovechild from another universe and for some reason now Tim has to deal with it. This is what he gets for chasing down errant speedsters. 
> 
> Guest starring: Red Hood and Green Arrow

It’s several more minutes before Sinestro ventures out from Hal’s quarters. Time taken to clean himself up (no matter how long it’s been, bathing in sheets of cascading water will never feel the same as the more … sanitary devices of his youth, but it’s common enough throughout the universe that he’s at least used to it by now), and ensure the bedding is handled as well. He knows from experience not to expect Hal to handle details like that – especially so when his mind is clearly elsewhere.

He steps out into a corridor he honestly hadn’t paid much attention to on the way in and resolves to find Yiskah regardless. It’s honestly not that difficult given her uncanny sync with the yellow element and the filaments of it in his ring. There are definitely… _more_ … heroes around than when he left, however, and he vaguely wonders after the planet currently hosting him and what is apparently his daughter from another dimension. As unconcerned as he generally is about such things, it’s a little surprising to see the League members reacting so favorably to her.

As is, she’s already surrounded by many of the younger members, including the fast one from earlier. Several of the more mature members of the League linger about what appears to be a lounge area, few taking note of him as he enters, and then lingers by the walls to observe. No one seems particularly concerned – either with Yiskah or him, though he catches several glances. There was probably an announcement at some point, then. Not that either he or Jordan would have noticed at the time.

His current charge in sight once more, he keeps half an eye on her and returns to watching the rest of the room: intrigued in spite of himself by a chance to observe interactions he would otherwise miss. One never knows when the information could be helpful.

Then, suddenly, there is a short person adorned head to toe in red and black heading straight towards Yiskah and Sinestro finds himself taking an instinctive step closer. He didn’t see the younger hero arrive, and the pointed nature of his driven steps is concerning – until the moment Yiskah catches sight of him and excitedly pats her companion’s shoulder to point him out.

"Ohheyit'sTim!" Bart exclaims, and somehow he's already turned to face the incoming Teen Titan. 

" _Impulse_ ," Tim greets through gritted teeth.  "What are you doing here?" 

"Grandpa called!" 

"Grandpa did not _call_.  There was a gust of wind and you vanished."

“Flashes,” Yiskah offers with a grin and a shrug.

Across the room, Sinestro surreptitiously settles back against a wall.

"Yeah! Grandpa called!" Bart replies, to which Tim sighs heavily.  "Heeventalkednotasfastashecould've!"

"Bart.  Didn't we already talk about you running off after high-speed conversations without telling the team?  And who's this?  And WHY are you in the Watchtower?"

Yiskah raises a hand with a half sheepish shrug. “That’s probably my fault. I mean, to be fair, my parents – er my not-parents just ran off for a, uh, ‘discussion’,” she continues with appropriately placed air quotes, “so I’m thinking maybe dear old granddad dragged him up as a distraction. Name’s Yiskah. Yiskah Jordan.” A nervous giggle escapes before she can stop it, skin flushing a little pinker than most humans typically would before she can even it out again. “Sorry I just… haven’t had to do that one yet. Felt kind of weird.”

"She'sHal'skinda-daughterfromanotherdimension," Bart tries to explain.  Luckily Tim's had some practice at decoding impatient speedster.  He takes a moment to look Yiskah over, catching the coloring and not-quite-entirely human features. 

"You're... Korugarian?" he asks.

“Mmhm! Well, half anyway,” she instantly corrects. “Or ah, maybe a third? Well some portion Fear Entity, one part human, one part Korugarian.” She flicks her hand up between them to bring to life a palm sized Red Robin symbol. “See? I do a pretty mean Bat Signal too.”

Tim gives her a long look, puzzle pieces fitting together in his head.  "Uh... _huh_ ," he says, gaze flicking around the room until he finds Sinestro.

“You know, after Damien, I kind of expected you’d be a girl,” Yiskah thoughtfully adds. “I’m almost disappointed. I was curious what you’d look like.” She gives a wave across the room and Sinestro inclines his head briefly.

Tim's eyes narrow in a staple bat-stare.  "What does _that_ mean?" he demands, even though he's pretty sure he's already put some of it together.

“Ah, you do that the same too,” Yiskah notes in a small voice, then louder after a clearing of her throat, “Because Dido’s a guy here and er – I mean because your Damien is my Dido? Yes. And I mean, ‘Robin’ is kind of a … or it _was_ kind of ‘girl title’ until you came along.” She coughs into her hand. “At home, I mean. Alsowekindofdatedforlikeayear?”

"Whoa, we what?"  Tim was about to be lulled in by trying to figure out Yiskah's explanation of her dimension before being abruptly interrupted.  He's keenly aware of the protective eyes on him.  "And, uh, is that your _dad_ dad or...?"

“Dated,” Yiskah reiterates, making seemingly unrelated hand gestures. “Before you, ah, figured out – that is, maybe _here_ you haven’t – UM. How’s Conner?” Then, the rest of his words make it through her instinctive, nervous ramble, and she glances over towards the only person in the room that could count for his inquiry and relaxes a bit more, her skin continuing it’s shift back to more outwardly Korugarian hues. “Well, he’s not from my world, if that’s what you mean?” she attempts, shifting her gaze back to Tim.

Based on Tim's calculations that makes the Sinestro fifteen feet away marginally less likely to want to kill him, especially since it sounds like the breakup was definitely, absolutely other-Tim's fault.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I--uh, Conner's fine?"  Tim swears he has better control than this and there's no reason for the warmth in his cheeks.

Yiskah brightens up again, regaining some of her footing from the way Tim blushes and the small coil of not quite fear inside him. “Good! You know, you shouldn’t be worried, you were a pretty good boyfriend. Other than not really being attracted to me and all. Very sweet.”

Bart, who had run off earlier, is suddenly back and laughing his ass off next to Tim.  "Youmeanyoudothatineveryuniverse?"

“Wait, I thought I didn’t exist in this world…?” Yiskah cuts in, unable to keep some of Bart’s mirth from spilling over into her words as well.

Tim groans.  How did things come to this point?  Oh right, it's _him_.  "You don't, as far as I know.  Bart's... talking about me dating girls before I, uh, apparently get with Conner."  He tries his best to think of Bruce's training to avoid squirming.  He's pretty sure he still squirms a little.

In Tim’s defense, Yiskah’s pretty sure she would have noticed anyway, what with being able to read a very relevant emotion without needing to see it on his face. She smiles somewhat nervously herself, however, due to his wording. “Ah, sorry if that, ah… hasn’t happened? I… It’s hard to remember what I should probably say and what I probably shouldn’t and you kind of caught me off guard I’ve… I mean it’s been 20 realities and this is the first time I found you again and you were kind of the first person I ever dated.”

Tim looks a little horrified, largely because her not-dad is within murder distance.  Bart, unhelpfully (as usual), is still dying of laughter.  "I, uh--am sorry, for what it's worth?" he tries.  "And, it's--complicated.  With Kon."

Yiskah’s lips make a perfect ‘o’ of enlightenment and immediately she steps over to pat him on his shoulder – or shoulder armor, at least. “Oh that really sucks. Want some tips? My Tim and I are still really good friends. I’m sure I know lots of stuff that could help. Pick a topic!” she suggests with a broad grin that leaves no room for question towards the rest of her parentage.

"Thanks but I, uh--"  Tim squares his shoulders.  He can deal with this; he's Red Robin.  He's faced down _Lady Shiva_.  Heck, he tells it like it is to Bruce's face pretty much all the time.  "I just can't tell if he's interested at all."  Bart, who had finally calmed down, goes back to laughing, because of _course_.

“Uh huh,” Yiskah cracks a smile and instinctively slides her hand into his hair to ruffle it up a bit. “I don’t really believe that, because your observation skills are off-the-charts amazing,” she bluntly returns, but her expression and the words themselves are warm. “So I’m thinking maybe it has more to do with the fact that you can easily think of like a billion different ways things could mess up and you’ll ruin your chances and your friendship and – look. You still seem pretty crazy about him. And if you’re really besties like you kind of seem to be even here? He’s interested.

“He probably just doesn’t get it. Kryptonians are kind of… thick like that sometimes. Especially Earth-grown ones. Father told me once that entire genetic offshoot’s pretty, uh… gonad-non-specific anyway. And, well, I never met a Daxamite that knew what ‘straight’ was, let alone a Super. Maybe it’s different here, but I already met Superman and I don’t really think so.”

Tim has to crack a grin at that.  Yiskah is _definitely_ Hal's (well, _a_ Hal's) child; she has his easy friendly charm. 

"Superman is..."  Tim purposefully glances around, as though for bugs, but it's clearly more for show for the person monitoring the bugs than anything else.  "... _definitely_ not straight."  Yiskah snorts, and Tim winks.  This is easier than he thought.  He does lower his voice for the next bit--no reason for _everyone_ on this floating space village to hear.  "And--yeah.  It's not that I don't know he's... attracted to me, but I don't know that he's interested in an actual relationship."

“Yeah, I think that one always takes more time,” Yiskah answers with a one-armed squeeze around his shoulders. “But on the plus side, you know it’s totally gone well in another world with a lot of constants to this one, so… That’s good, right? I mean, there’s not much advise I can give you there that you’re going to like, because most of it is ‘you have to be blunt with him’.

“If it makes you feel any better, though, just remember that my parents didn’t even admit they were married until like three or four Earth-years after I was born AND legitimately tried to kill each other a few times and it still worked out… So all in all, you’re doing _great_.”

"I'm...not sure _anyone_ can quite compare to your parents."  Tim laughs weakly.

“They _are_ pretty awesome,” Yiskah whole heartedly agrees.

"Tiiiiim," whines Bart, somehow still quickly and clearly having just dashed back from somewhere else again.  "Come onnnnn, you _stole_ her.  You always steal the fun ones!  _I_ was the one who got invited!  It's not even like Kon isn't totally into you!"

Tim grins, shaking his head.  "All right, all right, you can have her back.  I should let the team know where we are anyway."  He steps away into a corner, fading into the shadows as he texts an update out.  Then, after taking some time to observe (Robin habits die... well, never), decides it's time to approach the mysterious Korugarian and find out what he can find. 

"So," he says, slipping into place in front of Sinestro.  "Where's Uncle Hal?"

Sinestro arches an eyebrow in return and casts his gaze out over the sparse group of heroes milling about before returning it to the young one before him. “Curious,” he remarks, lips quirking up at the ends with his words. “You are at least seven years too old to be his nephew.” It’s difficult to guess with masks and the sort of intensive training the short human has clearly endured. There is a brief pause as Sinestro tilts his head contemplatively. He is certainly quite young still, though, even if his ring cannot settle on a definitive age. Humans _are_ difficult in _many_ ways. “Though far more bold than your elders.”

"It's a bat thing.  Plus I know Uncle Hal would be upset with you if you did anything to me so the worst I can expect is TMI."

The Korugarian barks a short laugh at both the audacity and the naiveté of the young hero’s answer. “If you are one of the Bat’s, I would expect you to know more of our history than that. Do they teach their young so little of the universe at large?” He snorts derisively. “There is no dragging this planet from the backwaters, is there?”

"I can't tell if you're talking about the Lantern Corps or your on-again-off-again romance novel of a relationship," Tim snarks back, not missing a beat.  He's a _bat_.  C'mon.  He knows his shit, thanks.

Sinestro’s smirk turns downright catlike. “Both,” he simply answers, loosening crossed arms slightly and turning his attention to his current companion even if only for the briefest moments. “You are? And do not try to convince me you are Jordan’s nephew again.”

"I wasn't, for the record," Tim clarifies, amused, "We just call him Uncle Hal because he's friends with Batman.  I'm Red Robin."

"Yum~" Bart sings from across the room.  Yiskah clearly finds this hilarious.

Sinestro’s eyebrows stay raised, but Yiskah’s smile is somewhat infectious and his expression softens even if he doesn’t actually get the joke. “Well,” he begins, momentarily losing track of his instinctive snipe and settling instead for, “I have heard worse terms of endearment.” It’s another moment before he can drag his gaze off Yiskah’s open amusement and back to the child he is currently conversing with, but he manages it. “As for your question, Jordan apparently spent a few minutes too many away from his Corps and they promptly dissolved into chaos in his absence.”

Tim manages to hold a straight face for about 5 seconds before bursting into laughter.  (That's not to say he didn't catch the dad look, though.  He grew up around Bruce--he knows the dad look.)  "That sounds about right," Tim finally replies to the (former?) supervillain, "But the real question is: is he going to make it more or less chaotic?"

A sharp snort of disbelief signals Sinestro’s opinion perhaps more loudly than the words that follow. “I wouldn’t consider it a question,” he drawls. “Jordan’s penchant for entropy is both well-known and bizarrely effective. I suspect he shouldn’t be _too_ long, considering.”

Tim grins.  Sinestro is highly entertaining and surprisingly game, for an intergalactic potentially-evil warlord.  "So, since Uncle Hal is apparently occupied, and you're sort of like a--uncle-in-law?"  He's not sure what the appropriate term here would be.  Aunt?  Nah, clearly not.  Other Uncle?  Tim doesn't give out that kind of familiarity without knowing a person better.  Uncle-in-law would have to do for now.  "Anyway, I'm expecting _you_ to explain what's up with your alternate universe lovechild."

Sinestro arches a skeptical brow at the small human demanding information from him and has to grin at his impetuousness. “We have already explained the situation to your mentor: what do you require the information for?”

"Saves me the trouble of having to deal with Robin," Tim explains.  "Also, don't feel like hunting Batman down when you're literally right here."

“You believe yourself equally capable,” the Korugarian says with a slight air of amusement, but a more prominent interest. He turns a bit, directing his attention back to the young girl he’d promised to watch over, and clasps his hands into the small of his back: a position of habit from his many years imparting knowledge to others.

“According to my scans, her DNA matches expected permutations of combined Korugarian and Human heritage and carries markers that would indicate parentage of both Jordan and myself. Apparently, there has been some speculation regarding the exact method of her conception, however she indicated that her version of myself believes it to be a result of a surrogacy by her version of the Parallax entity. Her manipulation of the Yellow Element supports the assertion.

“She appears to have hooked into this particular dimension by way of our Parallax entity. She has a strong connection with the Entity of Fear and claimed to use it to shift between realms in an attempt to get back to her own. Of course, our version is a bit…” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “… more possessive of those with Jordan’s DNA … at least compared with those she is used to, and has been so far uncooperative in sending her on her way. Lastly, there is the everlasting issue of when Jordan himself became Parallax, as it spread his influence over much of the time stream and is apparently interdimensional as well. She claims to be continually swept up in his wake, though I wonder as to how much of an issue that truly is, given her other claims to have returned home successfully before.”

"Fascinating," Tim says, because c'mon, Spock is the _best_.  Even _Jason_ likes him.  "So what's the plan now?  If our Parallax is much grumpier than hers, how are we going to convince him to help?  Or are we doing a Flashmill thing?"  Tim pauses in his thoughts to glance up at Sinestro.  "And look, when you're the one who had to spend years making sure Batman didn't get himself killed, well, it makes a guy want to _know_ things."

Sinestro files that tidbit of information away for later without the bat of an eye and latches on to something he would prefer to investigate more directly. “… ‘Flashmill’?” he prompts, glancing back to Red Robin, but saying no more.

"Uh, the Flashes."  Tim figures this is info that's going to come out sooner or later, the place is _packed_ with heroes, and Hal's going to be back soon to distract Sinestro, probably.  Plus, the man has a _daughter_.  Two, if his memory serves.  Tim's pretty good with grumpy dads.  He glances meaningfully at the nearest security camera.  "They have a treadmill that they can sometimes use to do... weird things Flashes do with speed?  Anyway, it's a thought for how we're going to get Yiskah home."

“Do they now?” Then, with a quirk of his lips to match the rise of his eyebrow, Sinestro adds, “ _Facinating_ ,” because no one knows Hal Jordan for as long as he has without picking up some American pop culture references. He returns his attention to Yiskah again shortly, watching her animated discussion with the frequently-a-blur and idly wondering how much of her excitement is genuine. She _is_ a daughter of his lineage whom he supposedly _actually parented_. He can’t imagine any version of himself or his offspring not manipulating such attachments to their advantage in some way.

His smirk deepens.

“Well. She _did_ ask after the Flashes. It seems they have helped solve this issue for her before.”

It's probably a little more exciting than it should be that Hal's space boyfriend understands Star Trek references.  Tim saves that thought somewhere in the back of his head and shrugs.  "We'll see.  I'm sure Batman is churning through ideas too.  Dimension-hopping is actually more common than you'd expect on Earth."

“There is very little I would not expect from Earth after all these years,” Sinestro scoffs, then adds half under his breath, “excepting, perhaps, an age of peace.”

Tim snorts.  "I see Uncle Hal has taught you well."

“… Hrr.” There is a brief pause. “Between the two of us, I have certainly taught him far more – and certainly more _useful_ lessons.”

"Aww, Star Trek is _classic_ , though."  Tim can sort of understand why Hal likes poking the magenta space bear so much.

“It has been my experience,” Sinestro lowly begins, gaze long and clearly surveying, “that knowing what a society believes lies in store for them allows better understanding of current actions. Allows you to anticipate them. Humans are far from alone in that regard. The universe is filled with narrators.”

Tim does his damnedest to channel his inner Hal.  "That speech, man.  I bet you like Spock.  You're secretly a Spock fanboy, aren't you?"  It's a struggle, but so worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re okay with this now?” Ollie huffs, arms crossed and glaring across the room at the supervillain in their midst. _Mingling_ with Earth’s greatest heroes. Allowed to chat up impressionable youths in the world’s most high tech satellite while people who had literally helped stop his maniacal scheming years earlier calmly walked by as if the magenta space warlord was little more than an idle curiosity. He stalked slightly left, closer to one of the few areas of the room where the design of it allowed for cover.

Of course no one was even listening to him at this point. “Why bother asking for _Green Arrow_ ’s advice? It’s not like I’ve been nearly killed by the guy a few times or anything. Not like I’d _know_ what he’s like,” he continues growling as he stalks, keeping Sinestro in his sights – only shy of drawing an arrow due to the negative reactions of every other superhero in the room who’d caught him the first time. “Should be keeping that girl away from him, not letting him keep a damn _eye_ on her…”

The first thing Jason notices upon wandering into the main area of the Watchtower is that Sinestro is on board with his not-daughter, just as Jason's intel had indicated.  The next thing he sees is Oliver Queen positively stewing as he paces in wide circles around Sinestro and Replacement, who are deep in the middle of a seemingly stimulating conversation. 

"Ollie," Jason greets, figuring Ollie at least owed him for his safekeeping of Green Arrow's version of the outcast sidekick.  And believe him, Roy is a fucking handful.

The billionaire barely keeps his startled jolt to tensed muscles, but can’t help the reflex that has an arrow notched by the time he registers _who_ showed up out of the shadows. “ _Damnit_ didn’t you grow out of sneaking up on people?” he hisses, gaze snapping back to his previous target, but his hold only loosening on the string. “… So they’re letting _you_ up too now? Did I miss _two_ memos?”

"Excuse you," says Jason, not even that affronted in reality, but he's got to keep up appearances.  "I think I'm doing better than Lemons over there."

“Not exactly difficult,” Ollie grunts, shifting back against a structural pillar arching up from the wall to prevent getting snuck up on again. “Last I checked you never tried for a dictatorship let alone over a _planet_. … Or tried to kill anyone around here,” he adds on a mutter, only then finally loosening his hold enough to put the arrow back in his quiver. “Well, aside from Bats, but who can ever tell when _he’s_ around? And, well, _it’s Batman_.”

He pauses a moment, and then straightens with a low sigh, glancing askance at the rather casually dressed occasionally-a-mercenary to his right. “Please tell me a little bird told you about this rather than the rumor mill. This mess is already completely out of hand.”

"I have my sources," Jason answers mysteriously, careful not to glance at Tim.  "Anyway, how _did_ Lemons get up here?  I thought this was pretty high security and all.  I've been trying for _years_."

The whites of Ollie’s eye mask narrow. “Yeah well, next time bang Hal. Seems to get you a free pass no matter your history.”

"Really?"  Jason raises an eyebrow, because _seriously_.  Dude.  "If that's all it takes, I woulda been up here ages ago."

“That and an illegitimate love child- _what_?” The shapes of Ollie’s eyewear shift from slits to circles in seconds. 

"Just sayin'."  Jason winks at him.

“I- you- he- _tell me that was a joke_.”

"What do you _think_?" Jason asks, amused.  "I mean, it _is_ Hal we're talking about."

There's a pause as Ollie tries and fails to find a response, and then Jason adds, "Plus, you know I'm sexay."

After another failed attempt to produce _some_ sort of response to that, Ollie throws up his arms and goes back to glaring across the room at his good friend’s supposed nemesis/sometimes lover. “At least he can’t knock you up,” he finally settles on.

Jason follows Ollie's gaze.  "Well, I mean.  It happened once."

“You were dead, not… alien.” Ollie gesticulates with the words as if the wide gestures will somehow make the word more descriptive on its own. “And neither of those things when you-” More, vaguer gestures follow.

"Hey, it's not like Sinestro's birthed other dudes' kids.  Maybe it's a Hal thing, not an alien thing."

“Kid,” Ollie flatly interrupts. “That’s not helpful.”

Jason shrugs nonchalantly.  "Ain't tryin' to be.  Anyway, you should be used to this by now, right?"

The sigh that escapes has the weight of years to it. “I’m not saying I never expected to field a result of Hal’s one night stands,” Ollie grouses, turning to face Jason again with a broad sweep of his arms. “I’m just saying it’s a little short sighted to take that bastard’s word on any of it. It’s like no one around here remembers what he’s done to me – to any of us! Just because Lantern’s got a soft spot for a guy that’s tried to kill him and got him possessed by a space bug of fear doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t be concerned he’s milling about like he deserves to be up here!”

"Well," says Jason, aware of the stares from a couple nearby League members and blithely ignoring them.  "They have been in the world's longest on-again-off-again relationship for the past like... decade.  At least.  Maybe it's for the best that we've got the dick that Hal is clearly determined to ride within surveillance for now."

“You think we’ve got him under surveillance,” Ollie snaps with a sharp jab of his finger to the padded armor blocking Jason’s breast bone from a direct assault. “He’s the only one around here keepin’ an eye on anyone and no one seems the least bit worried we haven’t seen hide nor hair of Hal since their last round!”

Jason sputters with laughter.  "Last _round_?  Geez, gotta hand it to Hal for making a good use of time."

 

* * *

 

 

The manor seems livelier than normal. The air is a bit warmer than anticipated – Alfred probably hasn’t turned on the air conditioning yet – and the soft clink of tableware in use creeps up the staircase as Bruce slinks down. The muffled conversations and smells wafting up from the kitchen are all things he noted before so much as leaving the bedroom. It doesn’t bother him. Part of him even admits it’s kind of nice to wake up to something other than silence, darkness, or Alfred’s sadistic drag of the blackout curtains in the main bedroom.

He resolves not to mention it, of course.

Even cataloguing the noises as he approaches the dining room, nodding to Alfred on the way in, and mentally preparing himself for an extra head he might not have expected (as much as one can prepare for former sidekicks that remain perpetually pissed off but less out to get him, anyway) he still squints over his cup of coffee and counts again.

Damian’s spot is empty, which is not unexpected, but it does look used at the very least, so apparently he was up late enough to eat with someone who wasn’t Alfred, but early enough that he’s already taken off. Probably running drills. Bruce is fairly certain it’s not a school day. Mostly. He surreptitiously checks his watch. Well, Duke has a pile of books at his spot, one still open even if his attention is mostly elsewhere and full of exasperation. Also usual, and still not indicative of whether or not school is in session. His watch reassures him it is, in fact, Sunday, however, so he sets down the coffee just as Alfred hands him the paper.

There’s still two more people at breakfast.

Two.

He raises his eyebrows at Alfred. It’s too early for this. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t adopted anyone yet, but his two hour nap at some point turned into his butler’s demand for a real night’s sleep, so the more analytical part of his brain hasn’t kicked in yet, the caffeine is still slugging its way through his body, and he is _so sure_ he didn’t bring anyone home last night.

Any children, anyway.

His look turns vaguely suspicious.

“Had a good night’s sleep, Master Bruce?” Alfred hums, unhelpful and clearly enjoying watching the gears in Bruce’s head attempt to whir past the unexpected sleep hangover to account for an extra body at brunch.

“Apparently,” he grunts, gaze flicking between the paper and the table once more before returning to Alfred.

There’s a pause. Alfred clearly isn’t going to take pity on him and someone at the table he’s pretty sure said something to him, so he grunts a good morning and counts again.

“… Alfred.”

A raised eyebrow and the slightest hint of amusement are all he gets in return.

Bruce wishes it were less likely someone in his household actually drugged him to sleep than he thinks it is, and leans towards his butler, obscured by a carefully held paper. “Damian isn’t eating with us.”

“Indeed, Sir. Training this morning, I believe.”

“… But there are three children.”

“Always good to have the World’s Greatest Detective for brunch. Would you prefer actual food today?”

Bruce’s expression turns baleful and he shifts away with a huff. Alfred seems more amused by this than anything, however, and deems the movement his answer. It probably is. Unhelpfully, brunch still smells delicious.

“Morning, B!” the third child chimes far too brightly. Brown hair, very light brown eyes. Looking at him expectantly.

“… I wasn’t expecting company,” Bruce answers, not unkindly, but it earns him a roll of Tim’s eyes and instinctively he adds a little more charm to the follow up, “I would have come down sooner if I’d known.”

“Uh-huh,” Duke disbelievingly comments between bites.

Tim, he’s pretty sure, is biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything, but the kid’s a good actor. Too good, sometimes. And Yiskah – _right_. Apparently the coffee has finally made it to his brain, thank small miracles, and he re-engages the possibility that someone slipped him a sedative the night before while simultaneously latching on to the most immediate topic at hand.

“How did you sleep?”

His attention shifts sharply to Tim.

Yiskah answers anyway. “Oh, it was great as usual! The mattress was very similar to the ones I’m familiar with, you know? I think it’s a little firmer, actually, but human mattresses tend to be a little too soft so I actually really liked it! Thanks!”

Tim, who has ostensibly taken this alien being from another dimension into their civilian lives without prompting despite her direct connection to a known supervillain looks _innocent_. He is actually smiling and somehow not smug – though Bruce thinks he may still be too tired to notice – and just settles back with a perfect “who, me?” expression. He doesn’t say a word.

Bruce really has taught him too well. He bites. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay with…” She looks at him. He looks at Tim. Tim raises his eyebrows.

Silence reigns.

Technically they aren’t her parents, but she does seem fairly attached to them regardless. Hal was attached – _is_ attached already. Even Sinestro seemed interested, though he’s less willing to admit the interest is an emotional or altruistic one just yet. There isn’t enough information either way, but even still it had seemed fairly obvious that the Korugarian fully intended on keeping an eye on her when they were at the Watchtower. It would have been a bit awkward, but completely doable. Hal has a room there, after all. Hell, they have guest rooms.

Bruce knows. He added them.

_So why is she here?_

Eventually, Yiskah cracks. It’s probably the most telling part of her supposed parentage he’s seen thus far. Hal Jordan can’t stand silence. Especially when it’s hosting extended conversations between bats.

“Father said something came up,” she eventually, though more quietly, explains, apparently catching enough of the tension to shift back in her chair. Yiskah casts a somewhat anxious glance in Tim’s direction, flutters past Duke and then arrives back at Bruce with a distinct air of uncertainty. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“… Something came up?” he repeats. This isn’t good. Bruce looks to Tim expectantly rather than continue staring down the surprising earnestness Yiskah is projecting at him.

“Corps stuff,” Tim supplies from Yiskah’s left. “He didn’t specify. I don’t think he really wanted to leave, but I’m guessing it was important. I told him not to worry about it – manor’s pretty empty these days anyway.” He follows with a press-perfect smile.

Duke snorts and drinks more coffee.

Tim hasn’t lived in the manor for at least half a year.

Instead, Bruce says, “It doesn’t have to be,” which is about as much permission as anyone at the table expects or apparently needs.

Yiskah beams. Tim looks rather triumphant. And Duke… looks like he’s trying not to laugh too obviously and mostly failing.

Bruce mentally rearranges his priorities.


End file.
